All I want for Christmas
by Digitallace
Summary: D/H - A short and sweet Holiday tale


Authors Note: So, it's nearly late, but I wanted to make a Christmas contribution, so here it goes! Don't mind any of the spelling/grammar errors as I didn't run this through a beta first. As usual with my stories you can check my LJ, my site or my Yahoo group for the header image for this story.

All I want for Christmas

In the large hall where Draco hosted his annual holiday celebration, a flurry of glittering fairy lights twinkled from the ceiling and deep teal and chocolate blown glass baubles hovered overhead. Thick shimmering fabric in rich iridescent aqua flowed like liquid to the floor and tables laden with hors' devours and frothing cocktails lined the area near the dance floor.

The centerpiece to the room was a towering champagne gold Christmas tree decorated in rich silk ribbons, glittery winter flowers and shining glass ornaments. An assortment of gifts was stacked below it, all wrapped in matching glossy paper and thick velvet ribbons.

Décor was not the problem though, as the manor hall was a feast for the eyes and no one who entered the room could deny its magnificence, but there inlaid the problem. Hundreds of witches and wizards graced his hall, dancing, eating, drinking and being generally merry, but not the one and only person who he had wanted to attend.

Mannheim Steamrollers played in the background and Draco's fingers automatically tapped out the piano accompaniment for 'Greensleeves' on his cocktail glass. He had never been to a more boring Christmas party, which was quite sad since he was hosting this one.

Thankfully no one else seemed to find it quite as dull as Draco did, and laughter filled his hall as people mingled and told bland anecdotes on this cheerful Christmas Eve. Still, Draco's eyes couldn't stop watching the door for his guest of honor to arrive.

He sent Harry Potter an invitation to every single party for nearly a decade and not once did the boy deem him worthy or celebrity enough to attend. It seemed nothing he did was enough to impress the war hero-turned Hogwarts Defense Professor. Even after he started his own charity with the proceeds going toward victims of the war and their families, or after he secured a seat on the Wizengamot, or after he garnered last year's most eligible wizard in _W.Q._ magazine in place of Potter's near eight year run holding the title.

Nothing, not his prestige, his high-powered friends, his wealth or even his good deeds had captured the man's attention, as he had so desperately desired.

"Truly lovely party as always, Draco," a soft feminine voice cooed at him and he let his eyes flicker away from the lock they held on the entrance down to the petite woman beside him with a sharp brown bob and a pretty smile.

"Thanks, Pansy," he muttered distractedly before letting his gaze retreat back up to the doors, not wanting to miss the moment Potter arrived.

"Still looking for Potter I see?" she sighed, leaning against Draco's arm and laughing slightly when he looked somewhat surprised by her observation.

"How?" he started to ask and she simply rolled her eyes.

"Do you really think I am so blind that I can't see when my best friend is utterly swooning for someone?" she asked haughtily. "I mean really, Draco. You've been on and on about him for years now. Ever since you ran into him… where was it?" she mused out loud.

"Tandy's Tea and Café," Draco blurted, blushing instantly at Pansy's knowing smile. She had clearly been setting him up and he fell right into her little trap. "Fine. I'll admit I might have a minor infatuation with the man, but really, it's not as if I fell for just anyone."

"No, no you didn't. You fell for Harry Potter of all people. King of the Gryffindor do-gooders," she huffed, though it was obvious she found the idea more amusing than anything.

"We're not at Hogwarts any more, Pansy," Draco chastised. "We're no longer restricted to those titles."

"You might not be, but Potter still is. He's the Gryffindor Head of House. Red and gold for life," she teased.

Draco rolled his eyes and clinked his silver ring against his glass nervously. "Do you think that's why he never shows? Because he still sees me as that Slytherin prat he went to school with?"

Pansy winced, her features scrunching slightly, making her nose twitch like a bunny. "I'm not sure, Draco… But it's quite late already and I really don't think he's coming."

"I think he is. I think this is the night he'll finally show," Draco sighed, not even willing to put forth the effort it would take to convince himself or Pansy that he meant what he said. He knew Potter would never show. He never had before and there was nothing to indicate that tonight was any different.

"I'm sure your right," Pansy conceded, knowing it was futile to argue with Draco on the subject of Harry Potter. Truth be told he had put the war hero on a pedestal since shortly after the war, but it was clear to her that Draco knew very little about the man he idolized.

Draco continued to increase his power, fame and wealth and it seemed pretty obvious that Potter cared very little for those things. He turned down the Minister position after all, and still lived at Hogwarts as if real life had never happened. It hurt her heart to see, but the way her friend went about his life would never garner Potter's attention.

Which was why she had taken matters into her own hands this year and intercepted Potter's invitation before it was able to get into the famous professor's hands.

Along with the standard invitation that everyone else would get this year, Harry's also included a small note, in her own handwriting of course, detailing Draco's affection and pleading for Potter to make an appearance if he thought he could feel even an inkling of the same emotion. She hoped, for her friends sake that Potter would show and if he didn't then she would move onto her backup plan of getting Draco's mind off of the reluctant hero for good.

The clock was slowly winding down, however, and there was still no green eyed, messy haired guests among the vast numbers roaming the manor halls.

Pansy stroked his arm in farewell as she went to mingle with the other more lively guests, and Draco continued to watch the door while he thought of his first real conversation with Potter.

It was in the tiny teashop in Diagon Alley as he had blurted before, and Harry was in a corner alone reading a thin book of poetry. He still didn't know what had spurned him to march right over and sit across from the boy, but he still laughed when he thought about the sparkle of surprise in Potter's eyes and the faint pink that colored his cheeks when he saw his uninvited guest.

"Poetry, Potter? I would have thought you'd be reading Auror manuals by now or nothing at all," Draco had scoffed, snatching the book from Harry's limp grip.

He thumbed through it briefly, not really reading it so much as wanting to watch Potter squirm. Harry just stared back with wide shining eyes. "Give it back, Malfoy," he said at last, clearly annoyed.

"My, my. The things Rita Skeeter could write about you if she knew your predilection to romantic drabble," Draco teased. "Seriously though, what have you been up to these… what is it now, two years since the war?"

Harry visibly shook his head he was so caught off guard by the sudden change in Draco's demeanor after the teasing jibe. "I… I've been training," he muttered.

"As an Auror?" Draco asked, feeling as if he already knew the answer and Harry only nodded. "I knew it," he announced and set the book aside. "Do you enjoy it?"

Harry opened his mouth as if to give the obligatory 'yes' or 'of course' or even 'well enough' but he quickly snapped it shut and a twinge of a smile curled on his lips. "I hate it," he replied at last. "All it does it remind me of the war and all the things that are wrong with the Ministry. In fact, I think I'm going to quit."

It was Draco's turn to look caught off guard, for he had never imagined the Boy Who Lived would ever be so forthright with him. "You… er... hate it?"

"Absolutely," Harry announced with a heavy sigh of relief. "That felt so good to say out loud," he mused. "I haven't told a soul about my wanting to quit. Ron's so happy that we're in the program together and Hermione is proud that I studied hard enough to be accepted and the Weasley's are all expecting me to be this big shot Auror, but I just don't want to… but I don't want to let them down either," he admitted.

"You… why are you telling me this?" Draco asked, still a little shocked at Harry's candor.

"You asked," Harry replied with a shrug. "Anyhow, it wasn't as if it was _me_ who invaded _your _quiet breakfast, now was it?"

"Touché, Potter," Draco replied with a small and mocking bow. "So what are you going to do if you don't want to be an Auror?"

Harry shrugged, his shoulders rising as he stretched his arms back behind him, showing off a toned chest even under his loose fitting sage tee. Draco hadn't noticed that Potter was dressed like a muggle before that point. His faded vintage tee had a velvet screen of a gnarled black tree and the silhouettes of several crow-like birds, which spotted the shirt across his chest and up his shoulder. Harry's right leg was kicked up and relaxed across his left knee and his worn jeans were a gray that bordered on black and fit very well from what Draco could tell.

He cleared his throat suddenly and tore his gaze from Harry's well-honed body so that he could pay attention to Harry's answer.

"I'm thinking of teaching. Hopefully they have a space for me at Hogwarts, but I might try somewhere else if not," he replied, a hint of a smirk on his face. Draco hoped that didn't mean Potter had caught his careful scrutiny of him.

"Oh yes, I'm sure you would be adored at Beaxbatons," Draco commented with a grin.

Harry cringed slightly and shook his head. "No, not there. I don't need that kind of distraction. I was thinking of maybe teaching at a muggle school."

Draco ignored the blasphemy of a world renowned wizard to even consider teaching at a muggle school and skipped right over to what he was more interested in. "What kind of distractions _do _you need?" he asked with a wicked grin.

He was pleased to note the blush that crept up Harry's neck, but was somewhat taken aback by his answer. "I need a companion," he whispered at last, as if he were talking to himself more than Draco. "Someone to share the cold nights with, someone that will take care of me when I'm ill, someone who will laugh at my jokes no matter how terrible… someone worthy."

It wasn't often that Draco felt his entire body heat up in response to another person, but in that moment he felt more akin to Harry than he had to anyone. He couldn't recall a time - even standing before the towering and evil Voldemort- that his heart raced and thudded in his chest as it had in that moment.

He wanted Harry Potter and felt as though he had to possess him in every sense of the word, and Potter had given him the key. Draco had to make himself worthy of Potter's affections, and he wouldn't stop until he had won the boy.

They talked; back and forth idle chitchat for another hour, with every minute being expended on Draco's end to impress Harry with some tidbit of information about his position, or his friends or the places he had been until finally Harry stood and offered his hand.

Draco could only stare at it, feeling his heart speed up as he thought of his longing to shake the boy's hand ten years before. He took it and felt the spark between them instantly, as if lightning chose that moment to coarse through his body and connect to Harry's. He couldn't tell if Potter felt the same spark, but he swore he saw those green eyes twinkle with a sense of contentment.

"I'll be seeing you, Malfoy," he said, letting his hand fall back to his side while Draco scrambled to come up with a valid reason to see him again. "It was actually… nice… talking with you. Who knew?" he teased and Draco forced a laugh.

"So, I'm having a party this weekend, maybe you could make an appearance?" Draco blurted.

"Er…" Harry responded, looking uncomfortable.

"It's a Ministry gathering, a lot of the Wizengamot will be there, even the Minister," he offered, hoping to sway Harry with his powerful friends.

"I'm busy this weekend… but maybe some other time?" Harry replied vaguely and moved past Draco toward the door. "I'll see you around, Malfoy," he said at last, before disappearing out into the bustling street.

When Draco noticed that Harry had left his book it was too late to try and catch up to him in the streets so Draco slipped the tome into his robe pocket. He thought about using it as an excuse to see Harry again, but the longer he held onto the tiny book of poetry, the thinner that excuse became. It wasn't as if he could simply show up at Hogwarts with an 'Oh, I was in the area and thought you might like your book back after the decade that I've held onto it'.

He held onto the book, keeping it close to him always and never even once cracking it open. He wanted to preserve that ounce of time he spent with Harry forever, as the longer it went without contact, the more doubtful he got that there would be another moment for them.

After that morning Draco had tried everything within his power to become worthy of the man he had felt such a deep and instant connection with, but nothing worked, and every single invitation went unanswered. He had thought of sending a personal owl with his feelings subtly written for Harry to respond, but felt that and act like that would seem desperate, and ruled it out at once.

If Potter was even remotely interested in him, he would accept one of the hundreds of party invitations sent to him. The fact that he had not, just showed Draco that he had to try harder to capture the attention of the man he dreamed of each and every night.

A sharp clap on his shoulder brought Draco out of his reverie and he looked over to see the Minister, Clive Edgecomb standing next to him. "Brilliant event as always, my boy," he told Draco heartily.

"Thank you, sir. I'm glad you're having a good time," he replied with a forced smile.

"We'll see you at the Ministry gala next week?" the Minister asked with an expectant twinkle in his eye.

"Wouldn't miss it, sir," Draco replied and Mr. Edgecomb nodded and made to leave. "Merry Christmas, sir," he called after the man.

The minister was the first of many to leave, and after the chimes struck two in the morning, Draco was left in a desolate hall. He looked around at the echoing expanse and wondered why, even filled with people, it felt just as utterly empty as it did then.

"Draco love, I'm so sorry," Pansy called from a little further down the hall as she approached him, the last of the Christmas party guests.

Draco sighed and shrugged elegantly, trying to show that it mattered very little that Harry's presence was the only thing missing from his decorated hall. "He's never shown up before now. I don't know why I thought tonight might be any different."

"Well, he's a fool if he doesn't see what I see," she told him, standing on tiptoes so that she could kiss his cheek. "Maybe for the Ministry Gala I can set you up with a nice bloke who actually does return party invitations?"

With a shake of his head, Draco prodded Pansy toward the exit. "Thanks but no thanks, Pans. I have to get over this disappointment in my own way, I think."

"Fine," she huffed. "But don't sulk all night, okay?"

Draco smiled weakly and nodded. "I'll do my best," he muttered.

After he walked his friend to the door and watched her apparate away, Draco made his way back inside and turned the lights down so that the tree in the center of the room sparkled like a multifaceted jewel. It was really quote beautiful, but there was no gift under that tree that he would prefer over Harry's presence at his home on any one of his festive occasions.

What more could he possibly do to impress him? He had the most powerful friends and allies. He had cast out every tome on Dark Magic his father had hidden away; he even reduced his staff to only two house elves, knowing that Potter's friend Granger was the head of the Elf Equality Union.

He was nearly exhausted with trying to get Potter to notice him, when all he wanted to do was to sit by a warm fire and curl up with Harry and a nice cup of hot chocolate.

"Did I miss the party?" a deep voice asked from behind him. He whirled on the last minute guest and even in the dark of the hall he could see the fairy lights reflected off of brilliant green eyes.

"Harry," he whispered, his voice barely carrying over the distance between them. He cleared his throat sharply as he strolled over to where Harry stood. "You're late," he noted with a teasing grin.

"I'm not much for crowds," Harry replied.

Draco wanted to shout to the heavens that finally, after so long of a wait, Harry Potter was standing right in front of him, in his home and there just for him. "I didn't think you would come. You've never answered any of my invitations before."

"An invitation to tea would have been better received than an invite to a flashy party," Harry informed him with a shy smile.

"So what changed your mind this time?" Draco asked, directing them out to the terrace, where the snow still fell in light flurries over the cobbled stone and decorated topiaries. In the dead of night, when it was snowing like this it was hard to make out the stars, but Draco had no eye for the stars.

Harry turned to him, scrutinizing him critically and Draco stood firmly against it, knowing that he had done everything he could to make himself worthy of Harry's affections.

"Is this a joke?" Harry asked, garnishing a crisply folded parchment, which he handed to Draco to read in reply to the clear confusion on the surprised blonde's face.

Draco skimmed the note, reading phrases like 'my friend is very taken with you' and he could feel his face heat up with a mixture of embarrassment and rage. "I'm going to kill Pansy," he announced through gritted teeth to no one in particular as he resisted the urge to ball up the note and toss it aside.

He could feel Harry's smoldering eyes on him but he couldn't seem to muster up the strength to meet them after reading about his lust for Potter spelled out in tiny scrawling script. "So it _was_ just a prank then?" he heard Harry breathe and looked up in time to see the man of his dreams walking away again.

He caught his arm and whirled him around with an almost angry glare in his eyes. "No. It wasn't a joke. I mean, clearly I didn't write it, though I doubt you suspected that I did," he offered, indicating the delicate and girlie handwriting. He certainly didn't want Harry under the assumption that he dotted his 'I's' with hearts. "But, there were no malicious intentions toward you."

Harry cocked his head to the side and studied him once more. "So is it true then, what the note says?" he asked, looking genuinely curious.

Draco's mouth went dry and words failed him. He thought of the note, and the delicately written professions of love for the man standing before him, the almost poetic pleadings of his friend that Harry think about his feelings for him and attend the party if he felt even remotely the same.

He looked into Harry's expectant eyes and let the most important part of the note fill his mind. "Are you here because you feel the same?"

With pursed lips, Harry crossed his arms in front of him in a defensive gesture. "I asked you first, Malfoy," he pointed out, clearly refusing to answer Draco's question.

"It's true, every word," Draco finally admitted, not willing to let his fragile ego stand in the way of what seemed to be a once in a lifetime opportunity to tell Harry how he felt. "I'm ridiculously, unequivocally and irrationally taken with you."

A sharp gasp escaped Harry's lips and his eyes widened slightly. "Why haven't you mentioned this before?"

"When?" Draco demanded. "I've invited you to my home on no less than fifty occasions and looked for you each and every time, only to find you the single guest not in attendance."

"I'm not keen on being led by the arm around a hall to be shown off to your friends like some sort of trophy," Harry bit out, seemingly annoyed.

"What? You think… that's preposterous," Draco chided. "That was never my intention. You were the only one I ever wanted to come. If you had been at my side I would have ignored all the others."

Harry's face softened and he looked on Draco with curious eyes. "Then why a party invitation? Why not a private meeting, tea, or lunch or the cinema? If you felt that way, why not just ask me on a proper date?"

It was a rare occasion for Draco to blush, but it happened then. He could feel the flush of heat hollow his veins, sending all the blood rushing to his neck and cheeks. "I listened to what you said that morning in the café. I strove to make myself worthy for you."

"Oh, Draco," Harry groaned softly as if comforting a small child.

He didn't let the feeling of his given name on Harry's lips distract him, nor did he let the slightly lecturing tone in Harry's voice go unnoticed. "I assumed that if I was to succeed in becoming worthy, that you might answer one of my invitations."

Harry sighed and grabbed Draco's hand, giving him a start as the fire he felt that morning ten years ago flame to life once more and curl around Harry's fingertips like a coiling snake preparing to strike.

He relished in the feel of the soft and slow circles Harry made with his thumb on Draco's palm and wanted to sink against him.

"Do you still have my book?" Harry asked suddenly, the question surprising him.

"The poetry book?" he replied and Harry nodded with a small grin. "Yes, I do," he answered, not sure how much he wanted to give away about his attraction just yet. Should he tell Potter that he kept it on his nightstand all these years or leave that obsessive tidbit out?

"Did you ever read it?" Harry inquired, taking a step closer.

"No," Draco replied honestly.

"Maybe you should have," Harry offered. "It might have saved you a little trouble."

"Why?" Draco asked, not understanding how a book of poems could be even remotely helpful.

"It wasn't a book of poetry. It was my journal," Harry laughed, shaking his head with amusement. "You really didn't read it," he mused, more to himself than to Draco.

Draco's mouth dropped open slightly and his eyes widened. "What? But when I was in the cafe that day…"

"It was a simple masking charm," Harry informed him. "But I released it when I left."

Draco reached into his robe pocket and pulled out the thin tome. He always carried it with him at his parties on the off chance that Harry would finally show up and he could give it back to him. Sure enough, as he gazed upon the leather bound book and cracked it open, there were no poems inside. Only the jagged handwriting of his favorite Gryffindor could be found there, and had he known that he could have read the boy's innermost thoughts, he doubted he would have resisted the temptation.

"I didn't know," he whispered. "I… wait, so then you knew I had it?"

Harry blushed furiously. "I left it for you," he admitted. "I thought… I felt a connection to you that day, and I thought I might be able to prompt you to think fondly of me."

"I already did," Draco whispered, gripping the hand that was still twined with Harry's more tightly. He cracked the book open to one of the pages and skimmed it quickly, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he read about Harry's fear of letting everyone down and how he didn't think he would live past the war and was convinced that Voldemort would kill him.

"How long did you keep this journal?" he asked then, suddenly wanting to read it cover to cover.

"I started it when I began Hogwarts," he admitted.

"Is it too late for me to read it?" Draco asked, worried that he might not get the opportunity now.

"You want to read it now?" Harry asked, his voice thick with amusement.

"Yes, of course I do," he replied. "Would you like some hot chocolate?" he asked as he steered Harry toward his quarters.

"Er… hot chocolate?" Harry asked, looking around the Manor with wide eyes as he climbed stairs and was led down glistening marble halls.

"You know, the thick chocolate liquid that you drink as opposed to biting like a bar?" Draco teased.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I know what it is, I'm curious as to what it has to do with me and my journal."

"I want you to be comfortable while I read," Draco noted and opened a set of white and gold doors that he escorted Harry through and into his private sitting parlor.

A roaring fire was already sparkling in the fireplace and he offered Harry a seat on the massive white sofa. Harry ran his hand along the velvety fabric and smiled up at him in confusion. "You're serious? You plan to read it right this minute?"

"Clearly," Draco replied, with a look to indicate that it was a very obvious answer. "So, hot chocolate, or eggnog?"

"Hot chocolate of course," Harry replied, trying to mimic Draco's previous look.

He disappeared to fetch the cocoa and when he brought it back to Harry, he had to pause to take in the sight. The sexy Gryffindor Professor was curled in the corner of the chair, his thick raven hair in stark contrast to the pearly white of the sofa, the orange and red light from the fire playing a vibrant show against his face.

He handed Harry his cup and curled up next to him as he settled in to read all about the life of Harry Potter. He was only a quarter way through when he looked up to see Harry's eyes drooping and he frowned over at him.

"I really messed things up didn't I?" Draco asked at last.

"What?" Harry asked, as if pulled from a daydream. "No, how did you mess anything up?"

"I went about trying to get your attention in the wrong ways. You don't want to be the celebrity, you want something more substantial than ill gotten fame and fortune," he whispered, leaning into him and running his fingers through Harry's soft mane.

A soft moan escaped his lips as Harry nodded to confirm what Draco spoke of. "I want a worthy companion," he whispered, mirroring his words from the café all those years before.

Draco took a deep breath and let his fingers drift down to Harry's jaw, where he softly caressed his face. "Am I worthy, Harry?" he asked at last, bracing himself for the man's rejection.

Harry's eyelids fluttered shut at the sound of Draco's voice, but when he opened them again his eyes were like burning emeralds. "I think you always were."

Draco didn't even let a moment lapse before his lips found Harry's. He crashed into him, seeking, exploring and yearning for more. It was more intoxicating than he had ever imagined and it was all he could do not to press Harry for more. His hands wandered until they found their way around Harry's waist and pulled him close, their bodies melting together like ice cream on a hot sidewalk.

When they broke apart a sigh of contentment escaped both their lips in unison. "So… you think I'm worthy?" Draco asked with a soft smile.

"Your strong, clever, passionate and beautiful, Draco. You couldn't be more worthy," Harry remarked before kissing him again.

Harry pulled his journal from Draco's reluctant grip and set it aside. "I think you'll have plenty of time to read that if you still want to," he noted.

"Plenty of time?" Draco asked. "So then, you might stay awhile?"

"Is that what you want for Christmas?" Harry asked with a cheeky grin.

"Yes. That's exactly what I want for this Christmas, and the next and the one after that," Draco sighed as he curled against Harry's warm body.

"Sounds good to me," he replied. "Merry Christmas, Draco."

"Merry Christmas, Harry," Draco whispered against Harry's ear as they drifted off to sleep in front of the fire. He was content, and warm and full of hot chocolate and a love that he had thought unreturned. But Harry snuggled beside him, his warm arms draped comfortably around Draco's body as if they belonged there.

Now he could find his dreams coming true and he knew he must have finally made the nice list for Santa to leave him such a precious gift.

Authors Note: okay, so clearly not my best work, but I thought it was a cute little holiday story that wouldn'd leave my head! Hot chocolate for all and I hope everyone has a very Happy Holiday!


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